Code Wolf: A Macconwood Pack Novel (The Macconwood Pack Series Book 3)

by C. D. Gorri

  Code Wolf: A Macconwood Pack Novel

  From The Grazi Kelly Universe

  by C.D. Gorri

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2017 C.D. Gorri

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either part of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights are reserved. No part of this book is to be reproduced, scanned, downloaded, printed, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To my husband, yours forever. And To Teresa Bowen, thank you for entering my contest!

  Title Page

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Connect

  Other Works

  Tagline:

  He never thought of himself as a family man, but sometimes things changed...

  Synopsis:

  Randall Graves spends most of his time writing lines of code in his air-conditioned office at Macconwood Manor. He’d rather be alone than risk involvement of any kind. Everything was going fine, until his Alpha sends him on a forced vacation.

  It's all good with Randall, as long as there's WI-FI at the small, beachfront Bed & Breakfast in Bloody Point, South Carolina. What he wasn't counting on was Tulla Nirvelli. The young, single mother and her seven-year old son, own and operate the small B &B on the island alone.

  Charmed by the young family, Randall finds himself enjoying his time at The Sea Mist Bed & Breakfast. When trouble strikes the young mother, Randall is set to help, but that means revealing his secret. Will she accept the truth about him?

  PROLOGUE

  “Goddammit! Son of a bitch!” Randall ran a hand through his chest length beard and growled in frustration. Someone was trying to hack into the Pack’s secure files. And he was getting close.

  Randall regretted the recent update to the system’s firewall. He added an actual alarm sound, similar to that of a fire alarm to the mountain of alerts he’d get if someone got close to breaching their system. He never expected to hear it.

  The alarm was currently screaming in the background, annoying the hell out of his supernatural hearing. He narrowed his eyes and focused. This had gone on too long and he had yet to shut down the SOB completely.

  Randall was in charge of all of the Pack’s technology, software and security included. No one should have gotten this far into his system. Of course, tonight was his night off. He’d been down in the music room tuning his guitar when the “intruder alert” went off on his cell phone. He got a kick out of all things Star Trek, but this was serious business.

  “Fucking POS!” He slammed the keyboard down as the bastard hacker froze him out of his own machine. He stood up and raced to the next station where Dib Lowell, his fellow Wolf Guard and Packmate, sat desperately trying to double up on their security like Randall had taught him. But he just wasn’t fast enough.

  “Crap, Randall! This guy is getting’ around everything, man!” Dib’s pale skin looked green in the reflection of the monitor. He was a pretty decent developer, but Randall had no patience. He needed to end this. Now.

  “Dib, will you just give me the damn keyboard already!”

  “Alright, man, sheesh,” the redheaded giant rolled his chair aside as Randall leaned forward and took control of his computer. He exhaled and went to work.

  “Oh, he’s good! But I am better. Ha! Here you are, you bastard,” Randall growled as he clicked away furiously on the keyboard with his long fingers.

  He moved at incredible speed, screen after screen flashed in front of his dark brown eyes. The hacker tried diverting his attention a few times. The traps he set were good, but Randall was too smart for that. He managed to focus on the lines of code that scrolled down the forty-inch screen like lightning despite the loud noise and thick tension in the air.

  He was known for his bad temper. Especially, when things were out of his control. What could he say? In his eighty plus years on this Earth, he’d become a control freak. Came from being alone so much, but he didn’t care what anyone said about him needing to get out more. His world was online, he didn’t need anybody else.

  “Goodbye, fucker!” He punched a few more keys, then he clicked enter. The high-pitched squeal of the alarm stopped leaving a sudden and almost unbearable lack of noise in the Pack’s control room.

  He turned around and sat back down in his neon green Herman Miller aluminum executive chair and let out the breath he’d been holding since his smartphone alerted him to the attempted break-in. The posh chair cradled his six foot three frame and made no noise as he pushed back and exhaled loudly.

  Nothing but the best for Randall Graves, computer extraordinaire. The others had joked about him spending almost two grand on a fucking chair, but it was his ass that sat in the damn thing for more hours than he’d have liked making sure Pack business was running nice and smooth. Hell, he might as well be comfortable.

  He rolled his neck and shoulders. Five hours. He’d been tracking this fucker for five hours straight. The last thirty minutes had been the worst of it. The hacker had gotten past some of his more sophisticated locks. That’s what set off the alarm, but he overlooked simpler ways of getting in. Various backdoors and such that Randall built into the system. He wondered why that was.

  Like most of the newer computer nerds, this hacker lacked the skill Randall had honed over sixty years of programming innovation. Perks of being a Werewolf. The fact that he’d been around for quite a long time meant that Randall was there from the beginning. He started out in the field of computers when no one took it seriously.

  Hell, he’d found solace in technology long before his Change. His father had worked at a Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, Florida during the Korean War. He was a mechanical engineer, a contractor not to be confused with a Navy man. Stanton Graves had no place for his own son in his heart, never mind home and country. He was a cold, solitary man and an even worse Werewolf, forsaking his Pack for the bottle.

  Sometimes when he worked overtime, Randall would go with him to the base. It was there that he met Dr. Grace Hopper. She had developed a compiler for computer languages and took a shine to the young Randall. She gave him a book that she was writing about computer code and he had devoured the pages, eager to try his hand.

  Randall was no more than ten at the time, but he considered that to be when his love for technology had taken root in his heart. Now, he was an expert in the field, accomplished and learned. Some would even call him a genius, but he hated the term. But, before any of those things, Randall was a Wolf. He was on the Alpha’s Wolf Guard and was ranked third in the Macconwood Pack.

  Normally, he loved his work. H
e was a fan of technology. Overseeing the Manor’s security system was a huge job. It included regular sweeps of all the in-house computers, their internet services, and the servers that held vital Pack information.

  He took care of the Wolf Guard’s smart-phones and made sure everyone was outfitted with secure lines. He also wrote several Pack-only apps that were encrypted with software that only allowed Pack members access. Keeping the Werewolf secret was important and much harder to do nowadays with cell phones and the internet everywhere.

  He also ran his personal business, Graves Enterprises, of which he gave the Pack back twenty-percent as per his agreement with his Alpha who was a major investor in the firm. Rafe had wanted only five percent, but Randall wouldn’t hear of it. He owed Rafe Maccon.

  Randall had spent a great part of his youth consumed with Werewolf legends and stories. Rafe was the one who suggested he use it. More than that, the guy wrote an actual decree, stating that Randall had permission to use Wolf legends in his work. Anyway, that was how he created the online role-playing game, WolfMoon.

  The endeavor proved to be worth it. He initially began programming WolfMoon as a means for the supernatural world to communicate incognito as it were, but normals loved it. Role-playing was a huge and lucrative business.

  The whole thing was an enormous undertaking and it required a lot of time. He now had over a dozen people, Werewolves of course, on his team and they handled a lot of the day to day dealings. He was a success.

  WolfMoon generated a lot of money for himself and the Pack via in-app upgrades and advertisements, not to mention merchandising deals. He should be ecstatic or at the very least, satisfied, but lately Randall felt restless.

  “Fuck, I need a run!” Dib stood up and stretched, interrupting Randall’s wandering thoughts.

  “Yeah, I hear you. A long run through the backwoods and a big ass steak sounds about right. Look man, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said.

  “It’s cool. But, uh, we gotta go talk to the boss first. You know? Come on man, don’t leave me hanging!” Dib offered him a high five which he met with a loud resounding smack.

  He was good at what he did. Hell, he was the best, but this hacker fuck, well, he was pretty damn good too. Too good to be working for the enemy.

  Skoll’s cronies were getting more sophisticated. He discovered the source of this latest attack on the Pack’s system. The guy entered by means of a silent cloning virus, designed to duplicate information on the closed circuit inter-Pack communication software Randall had personally developed. It was used by the entire Pack, but the section targeted was reserved for his Alpha, Rafe Maccon, and his Wolf Guard only.

  The bastard shouldn’t have even known of its existence. He knew how he got the information almost as soon as he realized what he was after. Liam, the youngest of the Guard, had misplaced his cell over the weekend at The Thirsty Dog. He informed Randall by way of Dib after the alarm started.

  The Thirsty Dog was a local bar and favorite of Pack members. Probably because the owner was a Werewolf and catered to the supernatural crowd with ease and competence. Randall ventured out rarely, but on occasion he did enjoy the collection of local brewed and distilled beers and liquors.

  It didn’t hurt that their buffalo wings were killer. But still, he was more a homebody. He didn’t like crowds and he didn’t like groupies. The normals who went there, or their females anyway, were pretty much willing to bed any Wolf in the joint. He wasn’t calling them out for it, but he had little use for women these days.

  Anyway, he ripped Liam a new one for losing his damn cell and for not reporting it immediately as was their protocol. The kid needed to be more careful. Couldn’t let a pretty face distract you when the fate of the whole Pack was in your hands. And as a Wolf Guard, it was their job to protect the Pack, be ready when the Alpha called, and heed his word.

  “Come on, man. Rafe’s gonna want an update like ten minutes ago.” Dib was staring at him as if he sprouted another head. Randall figured he was wasting too much time anyway.

  Randall understood Liam’s difficulty. The pup had succumbed to the wiles of a short, red-head with a tattoo of a heart between her perfectly supple breasts. She went by the name Trixie. Randall had intimate knowledge of said tattoo, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Liam.

  Trixie was a normal. And as with most human women, she was indescribably attracted to Werewolves without knowing exactly why. She’d made her way around the Pack Wolves pretty damn quickly. As Liam later learned without Randall’s direct interference.

  It was no skin of Randall’s nose. He was not in love with the girl. She was a groupie of sorts, a user, and he took what she offered once. Only once, to her profound befuddlement. Randall had repeatedly said no thanks the next few times around and she now made it a point to snub him whenever he ran into her. Which was, unfortunately, any time he went to The Thirsty Dog. Hence his new habit of staying home all the time.

  Women. Randall had one use for them and lately that had been less frequent than he’d have liked. He was losing his taste for meaningless encounters, but there had never been anything other than that in his life. Love was simply not in his cards. Except for Cat, Rafe’s sister and a fellow Wolf Guard, and Charley, Rafe’s wife, he could do without the entire female race.

  “You coming or what?” Randall looked up at the sound of Dib’s annoyed voice. He forgot the man was waiting for him. Fuck. He needed a nap or a coffee, or maybe he should get Trixie to give him another go. Nah. She was used goods and he no longer had the taste for it.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let me install this new firewall I’ve been working on and tell everyone to turn in their phones. I’ll have a new batch ready by tonight,” Randall glared at his redheaded Packmate.

  “Randall, come on man.”

  “I said I need a minute, you go ahead and tell the big man to stay calm. Those bastards should have never gotten this far into my system. Fucking hardware support asshats assured me these phones were impenetrable. Fuck ‘em. I’m going with the new prototype from Japan. My contact there said the new phones are outfitted with a titanium core. They can’t be hacked or cloned.”

  “Dude, I got no idea what the hell you’re saying,” Dib backed away from an increasingly annoyed Randall. An annoyed Randall soon became an angry Randall and no one wanted that.

  Homeboy was gonna blow a gasket if he didn’t learn to relax. Dib shook his head, his unruly red mane stuck up in odd places as he walked away hands up in mock surrender. He wondered what the Alpha would say if he suggested a little vacay for the badass super geek? Hmmm…

  CHAPTER 1

  “Are you fuckin’ with me?”

  “No, Randall, I assure you I am not fuckin’ with you,” Rafe Maccon eased his immense frame back into his oversized, black leather chair and narrowed his ice blue eyes at his Third and one of his oldest friends.

  How long had he known the man sitting in front of him? Randall had come to Maccon City when Rafe was about ten, he looked the same then as he did now. Tall at six foot three inches, muscular, and more than a little intimidating to the Wolves under him with his long beard and equally long dark brown hair. Rafe, however, was the Alpha. He was more amused than intimidated by his surly friend.

  “A vacation?! What the fuck am I gonna do on a vacation? Come on, Rafe, this is bullshit!”

  The door to Rafe’s private office flew open and in strolled a very happy, very pregnant Charley Maccon, Rafe’s wife. The Alpha’s eyes glowed as they landed on his positively glowing mate. She wore a long, flowy dress. The shade was a pale-yellow color that, Randall admitted to himself, looked damn good with her creamy complexion and curly dark hair. Their Alpha Female was quite something. There wasn’t a Wolf Guard in the place who wouldn’t lay down his/her life for her.

  “Well, maybe you should consider a vacation to be a relaxing experience, Randy,” she dropped a kiss on Randall’s cheek and walked past him, over to her husband whom she kissed full on the mouth.

&nb
sp; The way his Alpha’s eyes homed in on her when she opened the door was nothing compared to the hungry gaze that followed her across the room. Randall had noticed it took a while for Rafe to get used to his mate’s habit of greeting everyone with a kiss or hug. Wolve’s were protective of their mates, but Randall thought his Alpha was doing an exceedingly good job of hiding his tension.

  Werewolves did not share very well. Charley; however, had stood firm. That was the way she was raised and she wasn’t going to change for any, how had she put it? Neanderthal brow-beating husband regardless of how cute his ass was! Randall had no direct knowledge if the “cute ass” statement was true or not. And he didn’t want to know.

  He liked Charley though, had from the beginning. He was musically inclined and often took to one of the common rooms to strum his guitar or play a few keys on the piano. Charley liked music too. In fact, they bonded over it. She had a good voice and he made her an open invitation to sing with him whenever she felt like it.

  Yes sir, he liked his Alpha’s wife. She was one hell of a woman. He felt like a voyeur as he watched his Alpha place a large hand over her swollen belly and rub it in small slow circles, a gesture that was as loving as it was intimate. He felt Rafe’s joy in their Pack bonds and couldn’t help, but smile. Regardless of his own profound emptiness.

  Randall had thought himself in love once, a long time ago. He was young and full of lust and promise, and of course one pretty big secret. She was a normal, she knew nothing of his world and he liked it that way. When he suggested they marry she laughed saying that she never wanted a husband or a family. She did not want him or his children. Not ever.

  Her rejection was brutal, permanently damaging something inside of him. His tale was sad, but not uncommon. His experience with love was short-lived, but there it was. He vowed then to stay away from it and any attempt at anything resembling family.